


Haunted Halloween

by Visinata



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake Vampire Teeth, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Haunted House, M/M, hand holding, nonmagical AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27259498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visinata/pseuds/Visinata
Summary: Penny talks Simon into going to a haunted house. Simon is looking forward to the opportunity to do a little hand holding the dark. He succeeds, but not in the way he was expecting.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow
Comments: 35
Kudos: 46
Collections: Carry On Fall Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Punchsomeoneforme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punchsomeoneforme/gifts).



> I'll write real notes and do the tagging properly when I'm less sleepy.
> 
> Punchsomeoneforme, I had fun writing this. Thank you for the delightful prompts! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> CSCB, thank you for the beta help!

SIMON

If I'm honest, Halloween is not my favorite holiday. I only agreed to go to a haunted house because Penny's been a bit down lately and seeing her talk about the _magic_ of Halloween ("The cloaks, Simon. The crystal balls and wands! The magical artifacts or yore! Just imagine!"), well, it's the first time I've seen anything like the old glint in her eye since Micah dumped her over the summer.

Personally, I think the _magic of yore_ or whatnot, is a load of bollocks, but she's been with me through a lot and I'm happy (mostly) to do this for her. Plus Agatha has been hanging around with Penny lately and I'm pretty sure she'll be along for the evening as well.

I've been _trying_ to spend more time with Agatha on my own, but my attempts never pan out. If I invite her along on a study date, she sits by Penny. Meals in the caf, she ends up chatting with Reese or Gareth. Or talking _to_ Penny _about_ Gareth. (The belt buckles he wears really do take the piss. Even _I_ spend a fair amount of time talking about them when he's not around; it's a chore not to, honestly.)

Once, last week, I got up the nerve to ask her back to my dorm room but Baz, my roommate, was there (even though he's usually at football practice between 5 and 7 on Wednesdays) and he managed to be sufficiently dark and gloomy—not that he even has to try, it's like the bloke is perpetually in mourning over nothing—that Agatha ended up sitting next to _him_. On his bed. Listening to him _share his feelings_ , if you can believe it. I asked later what they were talking about.

"Mostly riding," she said. (Agatha rides horses. She's quite good), but the whole thing seemed a bit off to me. 

"He does have feelings, you know," she said to me later. "Even if you don't like him, you at least have to acknowledge that he's human,"

"Barely," I muttered.

She rolled her eyes. "And maybe treat him like a real person once in a while? It wouldn't kill you."

So that's my plan for tonight: be nice to Baz, impress Agatha, and find a way to let her know I'd like to be more than friends.

  
***

Baz is lounging on his bed with a book open and I'm keeping an eye on him. So I can stop him if he tries to leave before Agatha gets here and I can put my plan into action. There's a brisk knock on the door and before I can open it, Penny barrels into the room with Agatha and this new guy, Shep, from her Mythology and Occultism class in tow.

Shep's absolutely loaded down with a giant duffle bag, an oversize backpack, and a crate. He dumps them all on my bed and overturns them. A blinding array of colors and fabrics and sequins and theater quality maces and shields and wigs and helmets and who knows what else pours out. 

Costumes.

"Penny," I'm tugging on my hair in frustration. "You promised no fancy dress."

“Sorry,” she says, shrugging (and not looking remotely sorry). "Shep talked me into it."

"It's not Halloween without something unexpected," he laughs, digging through the pile until he finds a gigantic black witches hat and a purple wig, which he hands to Penny.

"Ugh. You know how I feel about costumes."

"I do," she says. "You're the biggest spoilsport there is. but it's Halloween, Simon. Get over yourself for one night."

"I'm not the _biggest_ spoilsport when it comes to costumes," I grumble, casting what I hope is an evil glare in Baz's direction. _No, that award goes to my piss poor excuse for a roommate._

Freshman year (You keep your same roommate through all four years at Watford University), there was a Halloween Ball and I thought Baz and I could go together, as friends. I got costumes for the both of us, I was pretty excited about it, honestly. First year, new to school, excited to make friends with my roommate who, back then, I thought was much cooler and more popular than me. (Now I realize he's just a moody son of a bitch who _looks_ cool to people who don't have to put up with being alternately glared at and ignored any time they're in their own room.)

Anyway, I thought we'd get dressed up, go to the ball, have a laugh together, grow closer as roommates and all that bosh. He took one look at me standing there in the doorway, my arms loaded down and said, "Costumes?" in the most incredulous voice you can imagine, then he sniffed. _Actually sniffed!_ Like a disapproving old dowager on a Victorian show! And that was the last time I tried doing fancy dress for anything.

I kick at the monumental array of rubbish (there's nothing else to reasonably call it) covering my bed and feel a grin sliding onto my face.

"Baz!" I call.

He looks up from his book so quickly that I'm not sure he was really reading it. Instead of being polite enough to actually reply to me, he fixes me with a glare, a menacing one. ( _How_ is it reasonable to expect me to treat _this_ like a real person?) When I don't say anything either, he raises an eyebrow and makes a "Well, what is it?" gesture with his head.

I wave my arm in the general direction of Shep's glittery rubbish heap. 

"Are you coming or not?"

He sits up a little straighter, trying to make it clear to everyone that he's taller than me, even from his bed. "I didn't realize I was invited," he drawls.

"Of course you're invited," I say, trying to sound as casual and devil may care as he does. "Why don't you come on over here and pick out a new look for yourself?"

He huffs disapprovingly but, to my surprise, actually does push himself up from the bed and steps over to my side of the room. It's unusual having him here, in my space. I can smell his ridiculously posh aftershave or whatever it is even more with him _right here_. It's not bad, actually. Woodsy. I've always rather liked it.

I turn my back on him and face Agatha both eyebrows raised. "There," I mouth. "I'm _treating him like a human_ _being_. Happy?"

She frowns and looks past me to Baz. When he meets her eye she smiles. "Well, come on then. Come pick out something to wear."

On the way past, he bumps my shoulder (on purpose) hard enough that I stumble into Shep, who catches me with one hand and shoves a set of fake vampire teeth into my mouth with the other. I check myself out in the mirror. Not bad. These are _nice_ fake teeth. High quality; not all cheap plastic and fake blood. I feel a little ridiculous, but also kind of cool. I tip my head and open my mouth a bit to get a look at myself from another angle. When I tilt my head the other way I see Baz reflected behind me, staring. I snap my mouth shut. He probably thinks I'm being embarrassing. _He's_ bloody fit-looking all the time. Doesn't need artificial fangs to lend _him_ an air of posh mystery, that's just him on any day. I glare back in the mirror and turn to Shep's heap of costumes, running my tongue over the teeth in my mouth. I can definitely work with this. If you're Dracula you get to wear a posh outfit and, maybe even one of those nice silky capes. I am definitely into the whole vampire vibe, it turns out. 

He starts riffling through Shep’s pile and bumps me again, with his elbow this time. 

When I turn to glare at him he raises an eyebrow. We're very close. His woodsy scent is almost overpowering. His eyes dart down to my mouth and back up again. I swallow, which makes me feel even more self conscious, which is stupid, because everyone swallows. I open my mouth to say something but before I get a word out Baz smirks and says, "Ah, that's more like it." He reaches out and with one swift movement he pulls the fangs straight out of my mouth, swishes them around in the mug of whatever he was drinking, and pops them into his own mouth, grinning around them in a mischievous way that sense shivers down my spine. Vampires are right fit, even when they look far too much like one's irritating arse of a roommate. Those _are_ high quality teeth.

To add insult to injury, he snags a wad of red cloth from Shep’s pile, shoves it onto my head and gives it a tug. Agatha starts giggling, and Penny says, "I love it, Simon. That's perfect for you." She swats Shep playfully on the arm. "I _told_ you Simon wasn't vampire material. You need a certain, _je ne sais quoi_ to pull that off."

"Sense of style," Baz says under his breath. Agatha laughs again, and Baz opens his own wardrobe up and pulls out the most ridiculously posh suit I've ever seen.

"Why do you _own_ a full on vampire get-up already? I mean, seriously!"

"It's a tuxedo, Snow. I play in the orchestra? Remember?" He mimes playing the violin, like I'm some sort of idiot who can't understand words. I growl at him. Agatha rolls her eyes, Penny gives me a warning nudge and Shep pulls a midnight black cape out of his stash. The minute Baz emerges from the loo dressed in his far too nice suit, he drapes it over Baz's shoulders.

"Perfect," Baz says, looking at himself in the mirror. The cloak has a blood red lining that shines in the light. To complete his outfit Baz pulls on a pair of shiny black shoes that must have cost more than my entire wardrobe (which, granted, is not saying much) and then turns to the mirror and begins slicking his hair back away from his face.

"Don't do that," I say. "It makes you look like a tosser."

"According to you I always look like a tosser."

"Well, yeah, I mean— but this looks bad on you. You look better with your hair… " I gesture at his head and he raises an eyebrow.

"Down?"

"Yes. That. You look nicer with your hair down."

Baz frowns.

I'm not wrong. He does look better without his hair slicked back. Like this he looks bolder, less attractive (Not that I'm attracted to Baz generally. I don't mean that. Just, I've got eyes, you know?) He's all hard lines and sharp angles and the vampire hair makes the perpetual scowl on his face looks intimidating instead of, well… instead of how it usually looks.

I turn away from Baz, who's still ruining his hair in the mirror and catch Agatha's eye for a split second. She's got a curious expression on her face and she's looking back and forth between us—me and Baz—no doubt deciding which one of us to cozy up to in the dark when we get to the haunted house. Right now I'm well aware Baz is looking like the better alternative. Despite the hair.

Shep steps in front of me, holding out an unwieldy looking red fabric contraption fitted with buckles and wires. 

It's wings. Giant, red, dragon's wings. I look in the mirror and realize I've had an utterly ridiculous red hat with a dragon's snout and big protruding eyes sitting on my head this whole time.

"No!" I yelp. "Absolutely not." I toss the hat off my head and stomp over to Shep's heap of rubbish. Enough of everyone else telling me what I should be. I can figure it out for myself. If I'm to stand a chance at pulling this evening, I need to find something attractive, something dashing enough to match Baz. There's a glint of metal at the bottom of the bag. I reach for it and find myself grasping the hilt of a rather well made costume sword. It's attached to a heavy leather belt that's wrapped around a green tunic. I can work with this. 

I pull the tunic on over my t-shirt and straighten it out. Not bad. I look a bit like Robin Hood. And to clinch it, there's Shep dropping a green pointed cap with feather in it onto my head. He is eerily on the spot with accessories.

Finally we're all ready. Penny's dressed as a witch. Typical. She's in a deep purple robe with pointy toed black boots, a tall black hat with a wreath of bats around the brim to match, and a giant, very fake looking purple ring on her finger.

"What's that for?" I ask.

"It's to cast magic spells with!" She laughs, waving it in my face.

"No wand?" I say.

"I don't want to have to deal with having anything in my hands in the haunted house." She shrugs.

"Good plan," says Shep. He reaches out an arm—it's covered with Sharpie: swirls and briars and five pointed stars. I wonder what he's supposed to be— and takes Penelope's hand. Interesting.

I'm kind of jealous, if I'm honest, but—and my heart gives a little jump—hopeful as well. Maybe Agatha will see them holding hands and take the hint. But when I look up it's Baz with his eye on Shep and Penny's clasped hands. My heart squeezes in my chest. _Jealousy._ I don't want _him_ getting any ideas about Agatha. "Right." I say, holding the door open for everyone. "Let's go!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew make it to the haunted house and someone holds someone else's hand.

Baz is strangely quiet as we wait for our turn in the haunted house. Penny and Shep trade bad Halloween puns and gawp at the decor around the queue; it’s what a Las Vegas hotel would look like if it were owned by vampires—everything in shades of red and black, the low ceiling covered in black feathers. Agatha is between me and Baz trying to make small talk. It's not working. He stays tightlipped and looks every bit the disgruntled vampire. Fits right in.

I wish he’d loosen up a bit. Smile. At least _look_ like he’s having a good time. Not because I care (I don’t). But because Agatha would like it, and making Agatha happy is part of my master plan. I don’t give a rat’s ass if _Baz_ is happy or not. It’s just, he’s bringing the mood down. It’s hard to enjoy myself while he’s looking miserable, you know? 

"What's wrong with you?" I ask. "Not used to being out while the sun's still up?"

He doesn't respond beyond the barest eye roll. 

It's fine that he's ignoring Agatha. Good, even. But the way he's refusing to react to me is really getting under my skin. I’m trying to draw him out here, help him cheer up for fuck’s sake.

I huff and turn my attention back to Agatha. She looks stunning in a knockoff Elsa outfit—long blue dress, hair up in a braid round her head. She’s also got an ice blue satin cloak that, apart from the color, is almost identical to Baz's. They look irritatingly good together, like they belong on opposite sides of a chessboard. When the line shifts, I maneuver myself so I'm in between them.

Finally it’s our turn and we step into the haunted house. The first room’s a crypt—walls lined with sculls, the soundtrack playing creepy violin music with rustling and squeaking sounds. Tiny red lights flicker on and off from amongst the skulls, meant to be rat eyes I suspect, or maybe something worse. It’s well creepy but too light for me to make a move for Agatha’s hand.

The second room is a stark contrast. It’s bright white. (Definitely no good for getting closer to Agatha, though helpful for making sure _I’m_ still the only one next to her.) Penny and Shep are leading our little group with the three of us behind. I give Baz an elbow to the ribs, just enough that he falters and Agatha I pull ahead of him. The press of people behind is keeping all of us packed closely together, but now we’re arranged like a triangle; Agatha and me in front, Baz behind us.

Somehow, this room is creepier than the last, despite the bright lighting. It looks medical. There’s what appears to be a pair of spa chairs, but instead of lotions and whatnot, there’s tray after tray of syringes, needles, clamps, all manner of imposing looking equipment. Some of it dripping red.New age music is playing in the background, but it keeps cutting out, replaced by faint screams. The effect is the opposite of relaxing. I point at one of the bloody implements and try to think of a vampire joke to make to Baz, but before I can, there are actual vampires surging out of hidden panels in the wall on both sides. Not actual, they’re actors of course, but more legit than Baz. They look mean and cold and they’re laughing and carrying giant, dangerous-looking plough shares and machine guns. Which seem a like an odd choice for a group of vampires, but okay. They rush us and I know they’re fake, but it’s still terrifying.

Penny squeals and she and Shep start running. Agatha and I follow close behind. As soon as we’re around the corner and in the next room (which is built to look like we’re outside, somewhere foresty) I turn to make sure Baz has made it too. He will be insufferable back at uni if we accidentally leave him behind. It’s too poorly lit in here to see much but I can sense a recognizable presence behind me: tall, dark (everything in here is dark), solidly _there_ and I think I catch a whiff of his woodsy scent, though that might just be one of the haunted house effects to make this pseudo forest we’re in seem more realistic.

There’s a narrow path leading through the fake trees. We shuffle along it towards the far side of the room where a rusty old pickup truck is parked with its taillights flickering red, a flowing, firey figure (glowing faintly) hovering to the side. While we’re focused on that, gunfire explodes from behind us (the sound of it anyway). I can feel everyone in the line behind me trying to crowd forward. Someone’s pressed right up into my back. At the same time, a bloke in a skunk mask lurches out from behind a hidden curtain, and another (this one with a goat head) surges at us from the other side dripping fake blood, waving a massive axe and yelling bloody murder. Shep and Penny _both(/em > scream this time, and Agatha jumps. I reach for her hand. I can feel it just beside me, nestled in the edge of her satin cape. It slides easily into mine, her skin smooth and dry—I wish I'd thought to wipe the nervous sweat off of mine before grabbing, but she doesn't pull away. She must not mind. That’s a good sign, I think; she must have wanted this as much as I did. I grasp her hand firmly but lightly, in an "I'm here" sort of way._

__

Everyone is panicking around me in the dark as we move towards the pickup truck and (I hope) the exit from this room. I’m grinning. It's working. Just like I thought. I can't believe it. I can’t believe it was actually this easy and we’re actually holding hands. I turn my head to look at where I think Agatha is— we're still mashed together like sardines—and smile bigger, even though I know she can't see it in the near pitch black. I think Baz is trying to get in between us. Bastard. I grip her hand a little more tightly. No one is getting between us. Her hand feels solid in mine, there are calluses on her fingers, from holding the reins when she's riding, I reckon.

__

Our group is pushed round the corner where another jump scare is waiting for us, this time with the added twist of people in all black rushing us from behind so we're forced towards a giant glowing beast with a lion’s head and a tail that looks like a snake, all attached to the hairy brown body of what I’m pretty sure is a goat. A blast of fire surges from the lion mouth and I admit it, I jump. Agatha gives my hand a quick squeeze. I squeeze back. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m living a charmed life.

__

Next is a dark maze dotted here and there with pools of colored light—red on a mountainous dragon that snaps at us as we edge by, blue on a tall woman who looks like she’s made of water, lavender on a giant, silvery unicorn with a rainbow mane and blood dribbling from a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. And then at the end of the maze, I see the unwelcome red and white glow of the Exit sign.

__

What now?

__

Do I keep holding Agatha's hand? Will she keep holding mine? Do we acknowledge what happened in the dark? Are we dating now? No. Stupid question. That's not how dating works. I don't think. (I don't really know.) But the hands? That’s what’s important right now. What do we do?

__

We’re almost to the exit and I can still feel Agatha's hand, firmly in mine. I’ve just about decided that if she keeps holding on, I will too, but then she pulls ahead of me, and I loosen my grip a bit so, if she wants to, she can pull away. She does.

__

The five of us step out into the light of the exit area and suddenly there's space around me again. Agatha and Baz, who were both crowded into me the whole way through the haunted house step away in either direction, and maybe I'm imagining it, but I think I see an awkward glance from both of them at me and at each other as they do. A thought more horrifying than even the white room of gun-wielding vampires enters my head: _what if Agatha thought she was holding Baz's hand?_

__

"Anyone want to go again?" I ask. Joking. Mostly. (I would not mind some more hand holding.)

__

Baz pins me with a look that sends a shiver right through me. "Why?"

__

I shrug. "It was nice?"

__

He purses his lips and glances down at my hand. _Does he know?_

__

"What? Didn't you like it?” I ask.

__

"It was… not entirely unenjoyable." One side of his mouth tips up minutely. I’d not notice it in anyone else, but for Baz it’s practically a smile.

__

I guess he does know how to have fun. A bit.

__

Agatha floats up to his side—much too close for my comfort—with a sly smile on her face. "You _seemed_ like you were enjoying it." The glare he rewards her with is so serious it makes the look he leveled at me a minute ago seem almost friendly.

__


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Game night! And a chance for Simon to talk to Agatha. What she has to say. . . may not be what he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the somewhat overdue end to the cosy Halloween fic I wrote for for the fall exchange.  
> Thank you for your patience, [ Punchsomeoneforme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punchsomeoneforme/pseuds/Punchsomeoneforme)!  
> Thanks also to [ artescapri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow), for your beta help!  
> 

I spent the ride home trying to convince everyone to go away and leave Agatha and me with some time alone, but Baz stubbornly refused. Everyone did, actually.  


Shep said he’d been promised board games. Who follows up a trip to a haunted house with a cozy dorm room board game night? Penelope Bunce apparently, and by extension Shep. And me and Agatha. Even Baz followed us back and made motions to join in. It is his room, I guess. But he could have gone to spend time with his real friends. I tried to suggest that, but I’m shit enough with words that somehow I bollocksed it up.  


“Coming back with us, Baz?”  


“To my own room?” He arched an eyebrow. “I rather thought I would, yes.”  


“You don’t have to, I mean… I know we made a big mess in there with Shep’s costumes, and you don’t like messes. We’d not be offended if you wanted to clear out until it was back up to your standards.”  


“That’s… thoughtful of you,” he’d said. Damn. I was trying for subtle, not kind. I’ve already successfully ticked “Impress Agatha by being nice to Baz off my list,” thank you very much.  


At least I managed to take a seat next to Agatha on the floor where Penny has an array of games laid out: a Ouija board, Tarot cards, little scraps of paper and pencils.  


“Ugh,” I say.  


Baz snorts.  


“What?” Penny asks. “What’s wrong with a little more Halloween fun?” She plunks a bowl of candy down in the middle of the floor and hands me a mug of spiced cider. I see everyone else already has one. Baz is sipping his carefully around his fake vampure teeth. It’s a whole production.  


“Sorry,” I say, tearing my eyes away. “This just… wasn’t what I had in mind.” I’m talking about the whole group games thing, but Shep sits down on my other side and puts a hand on my shoulder.  


“That’s all right, mate, we can play something else. I have a detective game in mind where one person goes out of the room and everyone else decides on a rule. Then the first person comes back in and has to figure it out by asking questions.”  


That sounds even worse, honestly, but it’s given me an idea.  


“Okay,” I say. “That. Let’s do that.”  


“So,” Penny says, “who’s going to leave the room to be the sleuth?”  


“Agatha and I will go,” I say, standing up and pulling the door open before anyone can object.  


“It’s a one person job, Simon,” Shep says.  


“Yeah, well, everyone knows I’m incredibly thick, right Baz?” He raises his eyebrows. “I probably couldn’t manage it on my own.” Penny’s looking skeptical, Shep, confused. Agatha, despite seeming baffled, stands up readily enough to follow me. Baz’s face, which I can’t help seeing it as I close the door - it’s directly in my line of sight -is unreadable.  


Once the door clicks shut I gather all of my courage and look into Agatha’s eyes. She looks gently curious. Non-threatening. I can do this.  


"Agatha." I fumble for my words. "I— Can you—. I wanted to talk to you about— about what happened earlier."  


She smiles at me, a real, genuine smile. None of the sly looks and smirking she was aiming at Baz earlier. Thank. Fucking. God. She knows it was me. She must, yeah? She'd not be so happy at the mention of something "happening" earlier if she didn't right? Unless she wants me to congratulate her on making a move with Baz? No. That would be all sorts of messed up.  


I wait a beat, hoping she'll say something to get the conversation actually started. To clear this all up, so I don't have to. She just smiles a bit more and widens her eyes at me in a "go ahead," gesture.  


I reckon I'm on my own then.  


"About the, erm, the hand-holding?"  


She smiles wider and nods. Okay then. This is extremely awkward. I really thought she’d have said something by now, but the smiling is good, right?  


“Well?” I say. “What do you think?”  


"I think it's wonderful." She lowers her voice and leans in, conspiratorial. "I've been wondering if that was going to happen sooner or later. I'm so honored that you've chosen me."  


"Oh, well. That's good, then." Relief is flooding through me. This is going better than I anticipated. Though honored is a bit odd? That doesn't sound like very even ground for starting a relationship. But I haven't had a serious relationship before this, so what do I know?  


I reach out towards her. Maybe we can hold hands again. Maybe we can do more than hold hands. It’ll take them a few minutes to get the game sorted. We’ve got time.  


She clasps my hand and brings it up in front of her chest. Not touching it—her chest, I mean. She’s just holding my hand in both of hers in front of her in midair. Her hands feel different now that I’m not caught up in the darkness and tension of the haunted house. Slimmer, smoother, I must have imagined the calluses on the tips of her fingers.  


"Simon, I want you to know that I’m here for you. I'll keep this private if that’s what you want and if not, you have my full support.”  


“What—”  


She interrupts. “Like I said, I’m honored that you’ve come to me to talk about this, but how does he feel about it? What did he say when you talked to him?”  


I feel suddenly like my brain has dropped out from between my ears. There's a whooshing silence where my thoughts used to be. All I can hear is Agatha's voice saying, “…how does _he feel_ … when you talked to _him_ …” ringing in my ears.  


Slowly, I pull my hand out of hers. "Him? Agatha? Him who?”  


"Him. Baz. What did he say?” She gasps. "Oh! Did you come directly to me?”  


“Yes,” I say slowly. “I did come directly to you. Because I wanted to talk to _you_ about you holding my hand? In the haunted house?”  


“Oh.” Agatha's eyes widen. “Simon, you weren’t holding hands with me. You were holding hands with Baz. You didn’t know?”  


I gape at her, speechless.  


“Wait here,” she says. “I’ll go get him.”  


I grab for her but she’s already beyond my reach, holding the door open, big smile on her face, voice bright.  


“I’ve decided I don’t want to do this anymore. Baz, come take my place.”  


She turns back to wink at me before stepping into the room. Complaints sound from inside, about how they’ll have to start all over again, about how Agatha can’t just change the rules. There’s a bit of a commotion by the door and Baz practically stumbles out—I’m pretty sure Agatha pushed him—and stops short just outside, his black and crimson cape swirls around his hips for a moment before settling.  


We both just stand there. It’s very quiet in Agatha’s wake. And very awkward.  


The loud complaints from within the room die down and then it’s absolutely silent. If he were a real vampire I bet he’d be able to hear my heart thumping a mile a minute in my chest.  


Agatha’s voice sounds again, loud suddenly. “Hang on a quick sec.”  


Then she slips out the door and into the hall, closing it behind her with a snap.  


“Baz, Simon thought he was holding my hand in the haunted house. Simon,” she enunciates the next five words very carefully. “Baz knew it was you.”  


Then she’s gone. Bomb dropped.  


If the silence seemed intense before, well… it was nothing compared to this.  


Baz is pale. Gripping the doorframe. He’s clearly trying to draw himself up to an imposing sneer, but without his usual luck. He’s more off center than I’ve ever seen him.  


“I thought you knew it was me,” he says. “I assumed it was a momentary lapse of judgement on your part. Fear induced panic, and whatnot.” He lets go of the doorframe and tips his chin into the air. He finally looks bored and aloof, but it’s too late. I’ve seen through the armor. I never realized before that it _was_ armor.  


I shouldn’t leave him hanging like this. I should say something.  


I don’t. I’m struggling to make sense of what I’m hearing. He thought I knew I was holding his hand. He thought I was afraid in the dark, and he—my roommate who hates me and takes every opportunity to be an arse—held my hand. Instead of mocking me he squeezed it, gently, when the next frightening thing came along. He was _nice_.  


Maybe, he never actually hated me.  


He’s just standing there now, rubbing his hand up and down along the side of his unnecessarily posh trousers. I reckon he’s waiting for me to say something and here I am just gaping at his long legs.  


The silence stretches until finally he takes a breath and turns towards the stairs. “I’ll spend the evening in Dev and Niall’s room. I don’t want to…” He gestures towards our door, shakes his head and starts walking away. “You should have a good time with your friends.”  


Normally, if he said something like that there’d be sarcastic bite to his voice. _Friends, what friends?_ But now it’s quiet and low. He just sounds defeated.  


I panic.  


“The violin!” I yell, as his foot clicks onto the edge of top step.  


It’s completely moronic. _I’m_ completely moronic. But it makes him stop. He turns his head over his shoulder to look back at me, confused.  


“The calluses,” I say. “On your hand. I— I thought they were from riding. I thought it was Agatha’s because of the calluses.”  


“Riders wear gloves to avoid getting calluses.” He turns back and takes a step down.  


“Yours are from playing the violin!” I’m getting frantic.  


“Well spotted, Snow.”  


Another step.  


“Baz, please come back.”  


He stops, two steps below me—shorter, for a change (I didn’t realize I had followed him to the stairs)—and turns so we’re face to face.  


“Why?”  


“Because—“ I stop. Why _do_ I want him back?  


“I don’t know.”  


He huffs and begins to turn again. I reach out and grab his arm, making him stumble and take a step forward, one step up. Towards me. We’re practically eye to eye now.  


“I don’t know,” I repeat, “but… it was nice, when I was holding your hand. I kept thinking, ‘I don’t want this to end.’ It felt, I don’t know… comforting? And I don’t feel all that different about it now, knowing it was you.”  


He clears his throat and I realize I’ve been looking down, rubbing the back of my head with the hand that’s not grasping his bicep.  


I drop my hand to my side—not the one holding him, I don’t trust him not to run away—and look up.  


I’ve never noticed before how many colours are in his eyes. If you’d asked me a day ago, I’d have said they were a deep green—I have paid attention to his eyes a bit before this, I suppose. But from here, eight inches away, there are flecks of grey and amber and slate blue. They’re beautiful. He’s beautiful.  


“You’re beautiful.” I say it out loud. This is already the most embarrassing conversation of my life. I’m going to have to go to the student affairs office tomorrow and ask for a new room assignment anyway so why not just say everything that comes into my head? Brilliant plan, Simon.  


I thought Baz was already as tense as he gets, but somehow at my words, his whole body manages to become even more rigid, and a strand of silky black hair falls into his eyes. I reach out without thinking and tuck it back behind his ear.  


I’m barely breathing. We’re in a bubble of time and space that seems frozen. Maybe Penelope figured out how to use that gaudy ring to cast a magic spell after all. Something has surely stopped time.  


Baz takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. It smells of mint and chocolate apple cider. I don’t think he’s really been breathing either.  


“Simon?” he begins. “Simon, what are you saying?”  


“I don’t know.”  


Slowly, he says, “Should I go, or not?”  


“No. Definitely don’t go. Will you stay here? Please”  


“Here, as in, playing games in our room with your friends?”  


“Maybe. Yeah. Yes. That.” He begins to pull his sleeve out of my grip. “But also— first… here, right here. On the stairs. With me.”  


I lean in, minutely, and relax my grip on his arm. I don’t think he’s about to run away any more. I slowly slide my hand up to his shoulder, letting my fingers fall behind his back, pulling him towards me. He finishes closing the distance and my eyes fall shut instinctively as our lips meet, and then…  


“Ouch! Fuck!” I jump back.  


“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Baz is saying. He pulls the fake fangs—the extremely realistically sharp fake fangs—out of his mouth. “I’m so sorry. I got used to them. I forgot they were there.” He’s flushed and practically vibrating.  


I laugh. “I did too. No worries though, yeah? Come here.”  


Baz doesn’t move, so I grab the edges of his cape and pull until he’s forced to take a step up into my space on the landing. Now he’s towering over me slightly. I can feel a grin stretching my face as I reach around the back of his neck and run my fingers through the soft, short hairs there, pulling him down to me. This time our lips meet with nothing in the way.  


It’s tentative at first. I’ve never kissed anyone. I don’t know if he has. If I had to guess I’d say probably not; I don’t get the sense he knows quite what he’s doing either. But I don’t care one single bit. Everything is soft and warm and intoxicating. I pull his bottom lip into my mouth and he shivers and presses his body in closer to mine.  


By the time Agatha opens the door to see what’s taking us so long, one of his arms is clasping me tightly around the waist and he’s holding my my hand gently in his (just like in the haunted house - but this time with his thumb tracing stomach-melting circles across my palm) and I’ve completely forgotten what it’s like not to be kissing him.  


“Change of plan,” Agatha says as steps back into the room. “Who knows a good three person game?”


End file.
